


Knock Three Times

by viceversa



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, TXF Secret Santa 2018, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceversa/pseuds/viceversa
Summary: Mulder and Scully deal with the emotional fallout of a case.-A Secret Santa fic for flicked_switch , who likes smut, angst and comfort, and wanted the story behind “knock three times.”





	Knock Three Times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flicked_switch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flicked_switch/gifts).



This was a bad one. When the innocent, the truly innocent, got hurt and traumatized and it seemed like there was nothing they could do to stop it, to fix it, that was when they were affected the most.

Mulder tended to retreat into his mind, putting up walls, afraid that if he let himself be vulnerable he would break and never recover. His intellectualism shielded him, _be objective be objective._

Scully tried to do the same. She tried to build up her defenses, to make walls out of steel higher than her head, to block out all the pain and be objective. She tried, and she was good at it. But it was an unsustainable task.

That night, defenses started to crumble, steel turned to dust. They solved the case, for nothing. Nothing. The evil had been killed—it was suicide by cop—but not before it did more damage to the world.

-

Mulder drove them back from the precinct. No words passed between them, both too exhausted to communicate. Files were stacked in the trunk, jackets thrown in the backseat. The stark white shirts they had started the day in were wilted with sweat and stress.

The radio played softly, still tuned from when Mulder found the local station days before. A familiar song came on, shifting smoothly from the upbeat radio host’s introduction and coexisting with the solemn mood in the car.

 

> _“Hey girl what ya doin' down there_
> 
> _Dancin' alone every night while I live right above you?_
> 
> _I can hear your music playin'_
> 
> _I can feel your body swayin'_
> 
> _One floor below me you don't even know me_
> 
> _I love you_
> 
> _Oh, my darling…_ ”

Mulder stole a glance at Scully, halfway back to the motel. She was staring at her hands, hiding someplace in her head. He empathized, knowing how hard this case hit them both.

 

> _“Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me_
> 
> _Twice on the pipe if the answer is no_
> 
> _Oh, my sweetness_
> 
> _Means you'll meet me in the hallway_
> 
> _Mmm, twice on the pipe means you ain't gonna show…”_
> 
>  

Mulder reached over and offered his hand to her. She immediately wrapped her hands around his, squeezing and then just holding his hand still, grounding them both a little as they pulled into the parking lot.

 

> _"If you look out your window tonight_
> 
> _Pull the string with the note that's attached to my heart_
> 
> _Read how many times I saw you_
> 
> _How in my silence I adored you_
> 
> _And only in my dreams did that wall between us come apart_
> 
> _Oh, my darling_
> 
> _Knock three times n the ceiling if you want me..."_

Mulder shut off the engine without ceremony. Neither of them moved to get out of the car, needing the stillness and the silence a moment longer, then two.

-

Mulder and Scully retreated to his room. They stood, silent, crumbling and distant. Why did she follow him here? Why did she seek to be around him when her bed was on the other side of that wall, when her place to crumble in solitude was elsewhere?

There would be no post-case dinner, shared over laughs and writing reports. There would be no post-case kissing, undressing, reverent lovemaking. They’d abstained for the past week in deference to the work because _the work came first_. Their cyclical codependency wouldn’t save them right now.

Scully dropped her shoulders, not able to stand tall any longer, not able to comfort the loved ones of victims or the victims themselves, not able to keep away the fact that she was a victim too, that they both were. She began to make her way from Mulder’s room to her own.

“Scully, wait.” Mulder took a half-step forward, wanting to rush over and stop her and hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay even though it wasn’t, it wouldn’t ever totally be okay. But she needed space, she’d just said as much. They probably both did.

Scully paused and turned to him again, impatient to get some rest.

“If, if you need anything, just, I don’t know.” Mulder sighed, trying and failing to think of a joke to lighten the mood, needing some semblance of their normal life back. “Knock three times… spin around, and do a dance or something. I’ll be there.” He shrugged, voice falling flat.

Scully nodded, despondent, needing him, needing to be alone. She walked through their connected doors, distantly acknowledging the metaphor of their lives inherent in connected rooms. She left the doors open.

-

Mulder sat heavily on his bed, suddenly sad that it was his bed and not their bed. They didn’t consort on cases. They tried to make them into little games, into the excitement of reunion when they returned home. This time there wasn’t any excitement. This was the post-case come down hitting them in the gut and knocking them both off balance.

He stripped his work clothes off, too weary to stand, and threw them in a pile somewhere in front of him. They were already wrinkled and stained with sweat and bad takeout. So was he. He levered himself off the bed, nearly overbalancing, and walked into the bathroom, turning the water all the way to scalding.

-

Scully had gone straight to the bathroom but paused in front of the mirror. She felt no more or less alone than she did standing right next to Mulder, no different at all, static. He was close, but they were separated right now, needing the modicum of distance and closure an evening would allow them. She didn’t think she could really open up right now, it seemed impossible. Her body, her mind, they were too close to the edge, teetering back and forth.

Part of her argued that she didn’t need to open up to be next to him, but she felt too raw and vulnerable to be near someone right now.

She stepped into the shower, making it as hot as the motel would allow. She needed to break down and cry. She needed to be strong and process everything that had happened. But it felt like she couldn’t do either, like she was stuck. Stuck. Stuck.

-

Mulder felt empty. He always felt a little empty after cases were solved. It was nature—the thing that gave him purpose in life was momentarily over and the paperwork and the waiting were all that remained in his immediate future. That, and Scully.

Scully was always there. She did paperwork with him, she waited by his side, and he by hers. More recently, they celebrated the ends of cases by being together, but not tonight, apparently. All Mulder wanted to do was walk through that door and hold Scully, make love with her, heal from this week a little bit.

But the ball was in her court, on her side of the doorway. She’d left his room, he remembered. She’d wanted space, wanted to be alone. And he understood, really, he did. It was hard to hurt in front of someone else, even if it was them. He just thought that they were past this.

He lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, willing his mind to shut off so he could get some sleep, end this day and never look back

-

Scully was depressed, void of emotion. The walls she had built were thinning, but no light was shining through. Now she couldn’t feel anything even as she was trying. _Just cry, dammit! Just get angry, do something, feel something!_ Logic dictates that feeling is processing, and she needed to process and get over this day, this case. But she couldn’t.

Instead she was curled up in her bed, on top of the sheets. Added to everything else, it was hot in her room. Stifling. She only wore a t-shirt and cotton underwear, hands tucked under her head, staring at nothing. She felt helpless, beholden to the waiting period, wanting her emotions to reboot.

Hours, minutes, however long later, Scully woke with a start, not realizing she’d been asleep. Her first thought was of Mulder, as it usually was, and she suddenly yearned for him to be next to her. Or, more likely, she realized that that was what had been missing. She’d done what she was so very good at and pushed him away, claiming a need for space, when all she really needed was him to lean on, and to be leaned on by him in return.

With this realization, the tears came. Big, hot tears that she’d been holding back for the entire case, since they’d interviewed the first victim. Tears for the evil they couldn’t stop in time, the evil they were exposed to. Damnit, she needed Mulder and she was tired of denying it by rote.

Scully sat up, wiped the tears and snot from her face and walked to the connecting door. She felt a little lighter, having a purpose. But at the doorway she paused.

Mulder was lying on his side, facing her direction. He looked like he was asleep, but lightly, like he was drifting. Scully hesitated, but a sudden memory from a few hours before made her plan.

She raised her fist and knocked three times on the door jamb.

-

Mulder startled slightly at the first knock but quickly noticed Scully there. He hummed, trying to wake up.

“Do I have to do a dance too or can I come in?” Her voice was raspy and quiet from crying.

“Come on over Scully,” Mulder mumbled. He scooted back and lifted the sheets, tucking them around Scully as she crawled in under his chin.

Their arms found comfortable places around each other, Scully’s nose pressed to his shoulder, his hands on her back and hip. Comfort. A feeling of rightness gradually settled over them like a heavy rain that had been trapped in the sky all day.

“I’m sorry, for earlier,” she offered.

Mulder rubbed her back. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Scully sighed, shifting so she was even closer, a leg over his. “I was isolating and that was the opposite of what I needed. What I should’ve done was this.” She pressed her forehead into his chest, wanting to burrow inside.

“I like this.” Mulder absolved her, knowing exactly what she’d been thinking, thinking it himself a little. It’s not like he stormed after her or crawled into her bed. “I’m sorry too.”

They’d made it together anyway.

Scully leaned up and caught her lips along his jaw, kissing his prickly skin until he turned his head. Their kisses were healing, a reunion of sorts, at first. Then Scully opened her mouth and invited in his tongue.

He wasted no time, shifting them so she was partially under him, kissing her long, thoroughly, caressing her body with his hands. They kissed in the dark, finding each other again.

After a while, feeling whole, reconnected, he backed off, breathing against her skin until he found his voice.

“This what you want?”

“Yeah,” she answered against his throat, no hesitation. It’s what she needed.

Mulder slid down her body slightly, pushing the sheets away so he could hover over her, still in awe that he was allowed to do this with her, to be here. He ran his hands up her legs and back down, parting them as he moved. This wouldn’t be a rushed affair, but he wasn’t wasting any time.

He kissed down her neck and helped her pull off her shirt, rumpled and warm with their actions, her hair puffing wildly as the fabric slid over it. She looked adorable, she looked ravenous.

Scully threaded her fingers through his hair, loving the feeling and the intimacy as he kissed across her breasts, finally circling a nipple. Her back arched, warm blood rushing to her center as he latched on, licking and kissing one tight bud and then the other.

A wandering hand slipped down, then up, and his head crashed down between her breasts when he discovered the sopping fabric of her panties.

“Oh, Scully, you’re going to kill me,” he panted, so turned on from that little bit of information.

“I hope not.” Scully dug at the fabric on her hips, pushing it down and letting him slide it off as he continued his descent.

Mulder placed sucking kisses down her torso, leaving wet marks behind, wishing they were permanent markers of him on her skin. The hands in his hair began to push, guiding him to his goal faster than he was planning, but he wasn’t complaining.

Mulder repositioned himself, arms under her legs, her ass, bringing her to him. He kissed her in her center, loving her with his tongue, bringing her closer to him, inside of him and he inside of her.

Scully’s eyes rolled back, her body tensing at the sensation of Mulder’s broad tongue licking her clit, circling and kissing the little bud before moving down again, playing at her entrance. Her hands flew up, grasping at the sheets. _Jesus_ , she thought—"Jesus” she moaned— _this was just what she needed, wanted, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder_.

Soon enough, Mulder zeroed in on her clit, moving one hand to slip one finger, then two, into her hot wet channel, pumping as he rhythmically sucked and lapped at her until she went taught under him, a keening whine escaping from her mouth as she came.

Mulder guided her through it, gently kissing around her center, fingers slowing but present, breathing her in until she relaxed and tugged him upward.

He went happily, kissing her full on the mouth as she came down from her high.

Scully shifted and glanced down at his cock, as he moaned into her mouth, rubbing against her thigh, bringing her up and closer. She pushed him slightly and he flopped onto his back, groaning at the rush of cool air around him.

She took just a moment to get her breath back, cupping her cunt with her hand until it wasn’t as sensitive, and then made her move.

Scully rolled onto him and lifted herself up, purposely grinding against his lower belly. He caught her hips and bucked into air behind her.

“God, Scully, you’re so fucking sexy,” he said into her mouth. His hands moved from hips to breasts, caressing them, careful of how sensitive they could be. “So beautiful.”

She reared back, running his length through her wetness, back and forth, coating him, making her ready again. She steadied herself on his body, hands firmly on his chest, and at her nod he took over, guiding himself into her opening. She provided little resistance, taking him to the hilt.

“Oh,” said Scully. “Oh, I needed this.”

It struck them both as funny in that instant, and they couldn’t help but let a burst of laughter through. Wide grins overtook their faces and they reveled in the joy they had created.

“Me too.” Mulder smiled and thrust up, rocking her forward. The heat quickly returned as they found their rhythm, Scully alternating between kissing him close and riding him hard and fast, being so near and so present with him.

He slipped a hand down from her waist, catching her clit with his thumb and she bucked, breaking her rhythm for a moment to grind hard on his pelvis. Jesus, she was close, closer, shooting to a hundred in one flick of his wrist.

“Mulder, oh, oh, Mulder yesyesyes,” she ground down and went still, convulsing hard around him.

Mulder couldn’t wait any longer and thrust up one, two, three more times before coming with a loud groan, her tight muscles rippling around him.

They collapsed, still joined, sticky with sweat, but a little more healed, together.

“Guess...” Mulder forced out, still a little breathless. “Guess you did the dance anyway."

Scully shook with laughter on his chest, making him slip out with a little sound from both of them.

“Just knock three times and I end up feeling like this?” Scully shifted to lay next to him, staying close. “That’s a deal I can get behind.”

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to @gaycrouton for organizing the Secret Santa, and my betas @scully-eats-sushi , @iloveurscratchybeard and @peacenik0 for making this readable.  
> and a double thank you to @peacenik0 for telling me about Tony Orlando and Dawn’s 1970 hit “Knock Three Times”


End file.
